


Typhoon

by Lady_Zephyr



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Bruises, Collar/Cuffs, F/M, More tags as the story goes on, Pokemon Battle, Rain, Shameless Smut, Wax Play, breath play, please read the tags, rope, scratches, tied up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-11-21 14:24:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11359311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Zephyr/pseuds/Lady_Zephyr
Summary: It's just not your day.You showed up at Po Town demanding Guzma return the youngoos he stole from a little girl. Although it's usually raining, today the storm seems to be getting worse and worse. After losing the battle with Guzma he makes a deal you can't refuse. He'll give you the youngoos, but you have to remain with him in the house until the storm passes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody! This is my first fic so I'm a little nervous to post it, but I've been thinking about it for a while and I hope you enjoy what I have so far.

Where was all of this rain coming from? You had seen the sky begin to darken as you approached Po Town, but never in a million years did you think you would get caught in a hurricane. You should have waited until the storm had passed, but that girl wouldn’t stop crying and Acerola had begged you to rescue her youngoos. So here you are at the entrance of Po Town, rain pouring all around you, blockades set up to hinder your path, and Team Skull grunts guarding every intersection just itching to give your pokemon a fight.  
  
The path to the mansion was rough. Every time you turned around there was another angst ridden teen begging to be pummeled by your pokemon. They really didn’t make this easy for you. The main streets were blocked by mounds of whatever garbage Team Skull could drag from the nearby houses. Broken furniture was piled around cars, and bags of garbage towered high above your head just begging you to try your luck by climbing over it. You opted to find an alternate route through the mess. You broke into the nearby abandoned houses to get around the blockades. When the doors wouldn’t budge you broke a window and carefully pulled yourself over the broken glass. At one point your only option was to crawl through the mud under a hedgerow. Finally after what seemed like hours of sneaking and battling you made it inside the mansion.  
  
You had hoped it would be warmer inside the house, but while there was no heat at least you could leave the wind and rain outside. You could feel the fatigue beginning to set in and decided it would be best to find the leader quickly and put an end to this mission. The most obvious path upstairs was blocked by a broken chandelier. The broken arms twisted into sharp points you didn’t dare try and slip past. Just like on the road to the mansion, you would have to find another way.  
  
You wandered around the house becoming more and more aware of just how cold and wet you really were. You checked each room you came across, sometimes finding a grunt who wanted to fight, other times only finding empty bottles or worn out beds. While the grunts weren’t particularly strong this many battles in a row were really starting to weaken your pokemon. You briefly wondered how many potions you had left in your bag, but you were in too much of a hurry to stop and check. After finding the way upstairs your path once again became blocked. The only way around was a sketchy row of boards haphazardly placed on a section of roof. Outside. In the pouring rain.  
  
This really wasn’t your day.  
  
You mustered up all of the courage you could find and took a few tentative steps onto the roof, ready to turn back at the first sight of trouble. Although they didn’t look it the boards were surprisingly sturdy, and you only slipped once when a particularly fierce gust of wind blew your way. Finally across the roof you stepped back inside the house. There was only one door ahead of you now. This had to be where he was. The man with the white hair you had first met in Mailie Garden. The man you spend countless nights fantasizing about and couldn’t get out of your head. And here you are cold and soaking wet about to barge into what you can only assume is his bedroom and demand he give you back a pokemon he stole from a child. Some great experience this is going to be.  
  
Shaking away those thoughts you opened up your bag. Only a few oran berries rolled around at the bottom. Great now you were cold, wet, and you couldn’t heal your pokemon. Whatever state your pokemon were in would have to do. You just hoped they had enough fight left in them in case this turned violent. You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly; it was time to confront Guzma.  
  
You didn’t bother knocking, you just pushed the door open. The room was a mess. Graffiti littered the walls and floor. A shelf of half empty bottles stood tall behind an unkempt bed. But against the back wall he sat atop a throne, his leg thrown over one of the arms and an old laptop resting on his stomach. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, a confused look on his face.  
  
“What the hell happened ta you?”  
“Shut up,” you replied, “I’m here to take back that youngoos you stole.” You strode confidently into the room hoping that the brave act would be enough to scare him into giving you what you wanted.  
“You came here in the middle of a hurricane just to get back some kids shitty pokemon? What are ya, stupid?” He put the laptop aside and stood up from his throne. “No way I’m just gonna give it to ya. Ya want it back ya gotta fight me for it.”  
  
_Shit._ You had hoped he wouldn’t put up a fight, but he was ready to go. You threw a pokeball into the air and your first fighter appeared. Guzma took one look at them and smirked. It was pretty obvious your pokemon were tired from battling all of the grunts. It would take a miracle for you to win this fight. Guzma responded by calling his golisopod. Despite its size, the giant creature was blazingly fast. It dodged your pokemon’s attacks and reciprocated with its own. You had no choice but to call forth another creature to take its place. You watched in horror as one after another your beloved team succumbed to the golisopod’s onslaught. Finally, your last pokemon fell and you had nothing left to defend yourself with.  
  
“So this is all the rising star of Alola’s got?” Guzma took a step down from his throne. You stumbled and fell backward onto the floor. You realized you were breathing heavily, being wet and cold for this long was finally starting to take its toll on you. Guzma crouched down beside you and put a hand on your shoulder.  
“W-wait,” you whimpered.  
“Shut it. I ain’t gonna hurt you. You already lost.” He grabbed your arm and pulled you off the floor. “C’mon you stay like that any longer and you’re gonna get pneumonia or something.” He pulled you out of the room and into a bathroom you hadn’t noticed before. “I’ll send one of the girls up with something dry for you to wear. Now take a bath and warm yourself up.” He turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.  
  
What just happened? One minute he’s crushing your pokemon and the next he’s worried you’re going to get pneumonia? Either way you were glad to get out of your wet clothes and wash off the mud and rain from earlier. At some point a girl with bright pink hair came into the bathroom and left you a towel and a few sets of clothes, unsure of which ones would fit. When you finished you stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around yourself. Before you could inspect the clothes, you noticed your belongings were gone.  
  
Your heart skipped a beat. Racing out of the bathroom you barged into Guzma’s room.  
“Where are they? What did you do with my bag, with my pokemon?!”  
Guzma looked you up and down and raised an eyebrow. “The girl who brought you that towel took ‘em to the pokemon center in town. But I’ll admit I’m diggin’ the wardrobe choice.” He smiled and walked toward you.  
“Ya know, I did win the battle and ya never did give me a reward.”  
  
Your breath caught in your throat. Was he suggesting what you thought he was suggesting? You had imagined him doing unspeakable things to you again and again, but at the thought of it actually happening you froze up.  
“Hows about you come over here to the bed and I, uh, help ya dry off?” He grabbed your arm and gently led you to the bed. He pushed you down so you were sitting, looking up at him.  
“I don’t know what to say,” you started, “I can’t believe I lost… I-I can’t go back without that youngoos.” You looked down at the floor. Here you were, sitting on the bed of a man you so badly wanted and all you could think about was how you had lost the pokemon battle.  
  
Guzma reached down and tilted your chin upward. An evil grin played across his face.  
“How about we make a deal then? I’ll give you the youngoos,” You perked up at the thought of getting it back.  
“Yes! Please! I have to have it back!”  
“And you have to stay here, with me, in this room until the hurricane blows over.” You inhaled sharply. A million thoughts raced through your mind. All you had to do was stay in this room until the storm ended? It was a dream come true, but you couldn't tell him that. Instead, you sighed. For some reason you didn't want to let him know that being locked inside this room with him was the stuff your dreams were made of. You took a deep breath and stared straight into his grey eyes.  
“Deal.”  
  
Maybe this was your day after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guzma's got you right where he wants you, or is it where you want to be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I had most of this chapter written before I posted the first one. Huzzah! It's two for one day!  
> I also didn't have a lot of time to proof read this one, so I hope it's not too bad.

As soon as you answered Guzma bent down and pressed his lips to yours. You parted them and allowed his tongue to slip inside. Reaching your hands up, you ran your fingers over his undercut and into the soft tuft of white hair on top of his head. He leaned into you encouraging you to lie back into the bed. He took your hands from his hair and placed them above your head, holding them in place with one hand. You felt him pull away and reach for something above your head with the other. Looking up you saw him placing a slim silk rope around the hands he held captive.  
  
“What are you doing?” You tried to pull your hands away, but he proved to be stronger than you anticipated.  
“Ya know, you were a real bitch at Mailie Gardens,” he pulled the rope tight against your wrists, “and because of that, I thought ya deserved a little punishment.”  
  
Looking up at the rope, you saw it was smooth. It was soft against your skin, but pulling against it yielded no result. It was as strong as it was beautiful.  
“It’s ariados silk. Ya can pull all ya want, but ya ain’t gonna break it.”  
Guzma placed a hand on your cheek. His hands were rough and callused. It slowly slid down your neck and onto your chest. He paused once he reached the fabric of the towel. He pulled gently, testing your reaction.  
  
“Wait!”  
“What, don’t tell me ya never had sex before,” he huffed. Your interruptions were starting to annoy him.  
“No, it’s not that… just,” you blushed and turned your head. “I’ve never been… you know… tied up before I guess. I don’t know what to do.”  
He leaned in and kissed your neck sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s the point. To stop ya from doing anything. Just play along and you’ll be fine.” Suddenly he bit down. A gasp escaped your lungs and you pulled against the silk rope. He ran his tongue across the spot he just bit. You were positive it was going to leave a mark. How do you explain something like that to Acerola when you returned? But you didn’t have time to think of the answer. He ran his nails lightly down your arms. It didn’t hurt, but jeez how could something that strange be turning you on so much? Gasping at the sensation, his hands continued lower once again coming to a rest on the towel. He pulled it open and leaned back to admire your body.  
  
“That’s not fair,” you chided, “now I’m completely naked, but you’re fully clothed.”  
“Typically the one who’s all tied up doesn’t get to make the decisions, but just this once I’ll agree with ya.” He removed his jacket, throwing it unceremoniously to the floor. His shirt followed shortly after.  
  
You weren’t expecting him to be so well defined underneath the baggy clothes. For a brief moment you wished you could run your hands over his stomach. Not being able to touch him was beginning to drive you crazy. He climbed back on top of you and reached for your breasts. He kneaded the doughlike flesh and leaned down to run his tongue over the peak. You couldn’t help but moan. Electricity shot through your body down to your abdomen. Despite the coldness of the room warmth was spreading throughout your entire body.  
  
“Not bad,” he mumbled into your flesh, “I saw how ya looked at me in Mailie Garden. Figured it was only a matter of time before ya came here yaself.” He released your nipple and took the other into his mouth showing it the same amount of attention as the previous one. His hands roamed across your body. He caressed your face, dragged his nails across your sides and over your stomach, finally reaching back up to cup your breasts. The sensation was incredible. You couldn’t help but moan.  
  
He pulled himself off of you and knelt on the floor at the edge of the bed. Pulling you to the edge he spread your knees apart exposing your core to the cool room.  
“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw ya.” Your arms pulled tightly against the rope. Like this you were at Guzma’s complete mercy. You watched as his head dipped down and felt his tongue lick an excruciatingly slow stripe across your lips. Your back arched at the sensation. Seeing your reaction, he started again. You moaned with every lick and began to breathe faster once he started paying attention to the hard bud he found. Your breathing became faster and more ragged.  
  
“Oh god, I...I’m…What?” He stopped. “What the fuck, I was right there!”  
“I know. I said ya deserved some punishment, didn’t I?” He ran his hands up and down your thighs, watching as your breathing slowed. His rough hands moved over your stomach feeling your smooth skin. You pulled against the ropes attempting to free yourself.  
Guzma chuckled “I told ya that rope ain’t gonna break. Now let’s get a few things straight while I have ya attention. While ya here, yer at MY mercy. You’ll do what I say. If ya bad, then I’ll have to punish ya, and the most important, you’ll cum when I say ya can.” The look in his eyes told you he was dead serious. You swallowed hard wondering what you got yourself into. “Do I make myself clear?”  
“I guess so?” you asked quizzically.  
“No,” He gave the inside of your thigh a gentle smack,” the correct response is _Yes, Sir._ ”  
You were a little frightened, but more turned on that you had ever been in your life. “Yes… Sir.” It was a strange turn of events, but you had agreed to this. Who knows you might even enjoy it more than you think.  
  
“Good, now I’ll forgive ya this time since ya didn’t know the rules, but ya best remember for next time.”  
“Yes, Sir.  
  
He returned to his position between your knees. This time he decided to play with you before picking up where he left off. He spread your lips open and slowly pushed a finger inside.  
“Damn yer tight, ya sure ya ain’t a virgin?” He waited for a response.  
“No, I’m not a-aaaaah,” you moaned as he began slowly moving his finger in and out of your opening. He leaned forward and licked your clit while slowly moving his finger in and out. You squirmed at the sudden assault, breath once again coming in quick gasps. Thanks to the extra stimulation you were approaching climax quickly.  
“Come on, baby. Go ahead and cum for me.” Guzma cooed. This sent you over the edge. You moaned loudly and felt your legs begin to tremble. Guzma continued to move his finger in and out of you, drawing your orgasm out as long as you could handle.  
“Ah, st-stop,” you pleaded, breathing heavily. He pulled away from you, leaving you with a dull ache spreading throughout your body. “Holy…shit… that was intense.” 

Guzma reached above you and untied your hands. You pulled them down to your chest. Two angry red marks cut into your wrists. You hadn’t realized you were pulling so hard on the rope. Behind you, Guzma sat down cross legged and pulled you into his lap.  
“What are you doing?” You blushed.  
“Let me see your wrists,” he gently inspected the red marks, massaging the skin to help improve the blood flow. “Gotta make sure ya ok after that.” He pulled a blanket from the bed over your naked form.  
  
“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” “Because it ain’t no fun if you end up cryin for real or something. Pain ‘n pleasure and all that. It’s all just part of the act. People get real fucked up if all ya do is hurt ‘em.” He held you close as the storm howled outside. Between the intense orgasm and the warmth of his arms you couldn’t help but drift off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last night was...interesting.  
> And confusing.
> 
> Just what does this man want with you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't quite sure how to progress from the last chapter, but I'm actually pretty happy with how this turned out. I hope you enjoy it as well.

It was still dark when you woke up, and it took you a moment to remember where you were. The unfamiliar room that belonged to a man you couldn’t resist. You closed your eyes, trying not to think too hard about the events of the previous day. The rain that had soaked you to the bone, pokemon battle after pokemon battle, soft hands and a demanding voice…. You pulled the covers over your head and squeezed your eyes even tighter.  
  
Just what had you agreed to? To spend an undetermined amount of time locked in a bedroom at the complete mercy of the Team Skull Boss. What the hell were you thinking? Guzma’s sly grin flashed across your memory and sent red flags waving across your brain. Staying here was a bad choice you decided. Your best chance at escape was to just get up and run. The pokemon center where your pokemon were kept was only a few streets away. You could escape from the house, gather your team, and never look back. You sighed. If only it was that easy. Far above your head, the rain pounded on the roof. The steady rhythm helped to calm your nerves.  
  
_Just breathe. The rain can’t last forever._ You poked your head out from under the covers just as the door to the room opened. Guzma shuffled through the doorway a steaming mug in one hand and a plate of eggs in the other. Hanging loosely from his shoulder is a familiar bag. Sitting up, you pull the blanket tightly around you. He sets the dishes down on the table beside his throne and tosses the bag at you. 

“I had some of the girls wash your clothes last night.” Opening the bag you find your outfit folded neatly. Guzma turns away and you hurry to get dressed. It feels good to wear clothes again, although they do little to fight the drafty chill of the house. Returning to the bed, you pull the blankets back around your shoulders.  
  
“Thanks. I uh… I’m not sure what to say. Last night was fun I guess.”  
“Here,” Guzma points to the food completely ignoring your statement, “I brought you some breakfast. Hope you like eggs.” He moves the table close to the bed and motions for you to dig in. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you began to eat. Suddenly your appetite roared to life and you devoured the food without a second thought. Satisfied with the meal, you picked up the mug and sipped the surprisingly delicious tapu cocoa. At last your body seemed to be warming up a bit.  
  
Guzma sat in his throne with his elbows on his knees, his head rested on his outstretched thumbs. He watched as you ate and once you had finished he spoke up. “Remember that deal ya made? We gotta set some rules, because we play this game my way.”  
  
You felt your heart skip a beat. Of course… the deal.

“Look last night was… interesting.” You tried again.  
“How are your wrists?”  
  
You bring a hand up to your face, twisting it around to view the entire area. The red lines that so clearly marked your skin last night had faded away into nothing. “They’re gone.” 

“Good,” he smiled, “There’s gonna be a lot more of that. I’ll admit, I kinda knew ya were in a rough spot when I asked ya to do this. So I think it’s only fair that I ask ya now that yer calmed down. Now there really is a hurricane outside so I ain’t lettin ya leave the house until it passes. So you can either help me and I’ll give ya the youngoos, or you can say no and leave empty handed. There ain’t no changin ya mind after this.”  
  
The second offer was surprising. It even seemed like he felt a little guilty for taking advantage of you before, but was it bad if you had enjoyed it? The answer is no, it really wasn’t bad. Actually it was pretty good. You wondered where it could go from there. But something else bothered you.  
  
“Why me? Why can’t you get some of your grunts to help you?”  
“Half of ‘um are underage and the other half are lyin. I ain’t about doing this stuff with kids.”  
“But you’re totally fine with making them steal pokemon and do your bidding?”  
“Gotta draw a line somewhere,” he shrugged. “So what’s it gonna be? I ain’t a very patient man.”  
  
_Yes!_ Your mind screamed. _Yes, yes, yes!!_ It felt like your heart was trying to beat its way out of your chest. You didn’t really have a reason to say no. You wanted this and you both knew it. He wasn’t going to let you leave anyway so you might as well make the stay enjoyable.  
  
“Ok, I’ll stay here and help you.”  
Guzma’s smile widened into a triumphant grin. “Now about those rules I mentioned earlier. Like I said last night, ya address me as ‘Sir’. If ya forget I just might punish you. We clear so far?”  
  
“… Yes, Sir.” You blushed and looked down at the empty mug in your hands.  
  
“Good, now the next one is super important so listen up. I’m gonna try a lot of different stuff out on ya, and some of it is going to be painful. My goal ain’t to hurt you, just to push ya limits. So we need a safe word. Somethin ya ain’t gonna forget. What’s ya favorite color?”  
  
“Blue.” You answered quickly.  
  
“You say that word and everything stops immediately, no questions asked. Ya only say that word if something is seriously wrong though, this ain’t a joke. Now for the last thing, got any hard limits? Like anything ya just seriously won’t do no matter what?”  
  
You thought about this for a minute. He must actually care about you if he went through all the trouble of explaining everything. That didn't stop the anxious thoughts bouncing through your head. _What did he mean by this would hurt? How bad? Safe words? Limits?_ All of the questions were so tiring. Your brain had been asking so many questions since you arrived here, worried about too many things. He obviously cared about what you had to say, so maybe it was time to let go for a bit and let this man do the thinking for you.  
  
“I’m not really sure what to say,” you began, “ I’ll be honest, I’ve never been in a situation even remotely like this. I guess I’m not really sure what I like or dislike. Just… don’t really hurt me… ok? I don’t want to get punched or kicked, or… or… I don’t know, ok?” You were starting to get flustered. With so many thoughts floating around it was hard to express what you really meant.  
  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I ain’t talking about stuff like that. I mean like…Ya know what? Let’s say this. I’m gonna try a whole buncha stuff out on ya, and if ya don’t like something, we’ll talk about it after. I ain’t gonna fight ya, so no need to worry about punches or kicks. It’ll be a learning experience for both of us.” 

He got up from his chair and moved to sit beside you on the bed. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. His heart beat loudly and you found the noise to be very comforting. You couldn’t resist leaning into his body and tentatively placed your hand on his chest next to your head. Maybe Guzma wasn’t the cruel, demanding man you had met in Malie Garden. Perhaps he was a soft heart wrapped up in a tough outer shell.  
  
_Just like a bug._ You smiled and giggled.  
“What’s so funny?” Guzma pushed you away. You looked into his eyes, still smiling.  
“Okay. I think I can do this. Please take care of me… Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's important to note that you should always talk to your partner before you start practicing BDSM. It's incredibly important to discuss likes, dislikes, and limits... even if you don't know what they are yet! 
> 
> Remember kids be safe, be sane, and be consensual.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shameless smut, need I say more?

From beneath the bed Guzma revealed a long cardboard box. The contents rumbled softly as he pulled it forward, but the noise was nothing out of the ordinary. Its plain exterior was the perfect disguise for what laid inside. As he opened the box you couldn’t help but gasp.

“What is all this stuff?” 

“Just stuff I pick up that looks cool.” Guzma grinned, excited that you were asking about his collection. He’d half expected you to call him a freak and bolt for the door, but with that look of genuine curiosity, he knew you weren’t about to go anywhere. He sat back and let you explore a while, making a mental note of any objects you lingered on. 

The whole thing just seemed so surreal. Here you were sitting on the floor of a mansion, in the middle of a hurricane, sifting through a box of sex toys. But for some reason you were so intrigued. You ran your hands over smooth leather, soft ropes, slim metal chains, and … was that a collar? The black leather was surprisingly attractive, and as you turned it over in your hands you discovered it was lined with soft fur. Guzma reached out and plucked the collar from your hands. 

“Out of everything in that box, this is what ya picked up?” You looked down at the floor, embarrassment showing on your face. 

“Was I supposed to pick something else?” 

“No, no, this is just fine. I guess ya liked being tied up more than I thought is all. All right, how ‘bout we have a little fun then? Come on, let’s lose the clothes.” 

Guzma rose from the floor and extended his hand out to you. You didn’t need the help to get up, but decided to accept his kind offer. Taking his hand, he pulled you to your feet and into an embrace. The blush in your cheeks deepened and your heart skipped a beat. It was kind of nice to be this close to him, to hear his heart beating strongly inside of his chest. It almost felt like you were a real couple. Wandering hands slipped down and tugged at the hem of your shirt, snapping you out of your stupor. As he pulled it upward you felt something brush against your skin, the collar was still in his hand. You pushed Guzma back and turned around. How could you be daydreaming about a relationship at a time like this? You were only here for the youngoos. As soon as the storm broke you’d be out of here. You pulled the shirt off yourself, threw it aside with a huff, and then began to remove the rest of your clothes.

“It’s a little late to be shy.” Guzma laughed. Before you could finish undressing strong arms crossed over your torso and pulled you into a hug that pinned your arms to your sides. A dull pain blossomed at your throat and you realized Guzma was nibbling at the spot he had bitten the night before. If there wasn’t a bruise already, there definitely would be now. His lips departed and were replaced with the smooth touch of his hand. Before you realized what was happening, he wrapped the collar around your neck and secured it firmly. The lining was softer than you imagined even though it was a bit tighter than you probably would have liked. 

“It’s a little tight … uh, sir.” You squeaked. He ignored the statement and crouched down to dig something out of the box. 

“Ya know, that collar is actually part of a set.” he pulled several things out of the box and turned to show you two smaller cuffs and a leash. “Give me your wrists.” He demanded. You obeyed immediately, raising both hands. Guzma grabbed them roughly, pulling the cuffs tight just like the collar. After releasing your hands he applied the finishing touch and clipped the leash onto a small metal ring in front of the collar. 

You looked toward the ground, embarrassed to be dressed in only the collar and cuffs. When you looked back up Guzma had taken off his clothes, but continued to wear his iconic jacket. He walked over to his throne and sat down. The leash in his hand was taught and as you went to take a step forward you were stopped. 

“Huh-uh, pets don’t walk on two legs.” 

_Pet? Is that what I am now?_ You sank to your hands and knees, looking to Guzma for approval. He nodded and you crawled forward a foot to ease the tension. The collar and cuffs were pleasantly snug and you could feel a wetness growing between your legs as the leash pulled against your neck. 

"L-like this s-sir?" you stuttered nervously. 

Guzma looked down at you from his throne. He doubted you knew how sexy your nervous form crawling toward him looked. He almost wanted to keep you locked up in the Shady House forever. Almost. Grasping the leash, he pulled until it was taught again.

"Now be a good girl and come give us a kiss." He motioned to his growing erection and pulled hard on the leash. You stumbled forward, but recovered and crawled the rest of the way to the dais. As you climbed the first step Guzma leaned forward, pulled you by the collar, and lifted your face to meet his. The kiss was rough and as he pulled away he pushed your head down to meet his groin. He tensed up as you placed a kiss on the head of his penis and kissed your way down the shaft.

Engulfing him in your mouth, you rolled your tongue around the tip, eliciting a loud groan from Guzma. His hands fisted in your hair guiding your mouth up and down helping you to establish a rhythm he enjoyed. He urged you to move faster as his breathing increased. All you could do was hold on to the feet of the chair as Guzma used your mouth. Finally you felt his hips buck and he pushed your head down onto his cock. Hot strings erupted into the back of your throat and you fought the urge to gag, instead forcing yourself to swallow the liquid. 

“What a good girl.” He purred releasing your head and letting you come up for air. “I think you deserve a reward for such good behavior. Why don’t you take a seat this time?” 

Guzma stepped aside and you took his place on the throne. He knelt down and pulled your bottom forward until it was at the edge of the seat. He moved closer to you, letting your knees fall over his shoulders. He admired you for a few moments, stroking your thighs and running his hands up and down your torso. His warm hands felt their way across your chest, kneading and grabbing the soft flesh. Finally he withdrew his hands, instead using his fingers to spread your lips open.

“You’re so fuckin wet.” He growled “That’s good, real good.” He slowly pushed a finger inside of you and pressed against the upper wall as it slid back out. He repeated this process over and over again, enjoying the breathy sounds you were making. Leaning forward, he gently bit the tiny bundle of nerves above your entrance. A sharp squeal escaped your throat and turned into a loud moan as he ran his tongue in circles. You gripped the seat of the throne, your orgasm building higher and higher. Toes curling, your breathing deepened. 

“I’m… I’m…… Ahh! Wait-!” He removed his hand and quickly stood. You were confused by the sudden emptiness until his cock pushed through your folds. He moved quickly, continuing to rub your clit with his thumb. It felt like an explosion occurred within your body. Guzma continued to thrust powerfully as you rode out the orgasm. He slowed when your legs began to shudder. Breathing heavily you gripped his arms, anything to keep yourself grounded.

He took a step back and slid out of you. “We ain’t done yet.” He lifted you from the chair and made his way to the bed. He set you down and stood at the edge. “On your knees,” he barked. You obeyed immediately, even though you were still a bit wobbly from the orgasm. He reached toward your neck and gripped the leash. Pushing back inside of you, he pulled the leash taught causing your back to arch. It pulled against your throat in a way that made you feel light headed. You had never felt anything like this before. You were completely at his mercy and it felt amazing. 

Guzma pulled the leash tighter making you arch your back past what was comfortable. He pounded into you mercilessly, “Fuck, is this what you want? You want me to fuck you like this?” Your breathing was ragged and your breasts bounced with every thrust.

“Yes, sir.” The collar pressed against your throat making your response come out more quietly than you anticipated. Guzma slapped your ass.

“When I ask you a question, I better be able to hear the answer.” It sounded like a threat. You cried out as he slapped you again, but he got his point across.

“Yes Sir! I love it when you fuck me!!” Unable to hold back any more you screamed his name as your second orgasm crashed over you. Guzma released his grip on the leash and you fell forward onto the bed. The sudden intake of oxygen sharpened your senses and you shuddered violently against his thrusts. Gripping the sheets below, you moaned loudly as he grabbed your hips and continued to pound into you. His thrusts became jerky and his breathing ragged when he pulled out and spilled himself across your back. 

“Ah, shit.” He breathed. “Uh, hang on a second, don’t move.” Shaky footsteps trailed toward the door as you awaited further instructions. When he returned, he sat next to you on the bed and wiped a warm damp cloth across your skin removing the mess he had made. You sat up once he had finished and he reached around to unfasten the collar around your neck. His hand gently touched the skin revealed by the collar. “You ok? That wasn’t too much was it?”

“I think that might have been one of the best orgasms of my life.” You responded honestly. “I kind of liked the collar.” You blushed and looked away from his face.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be embarrassed about. If ya like somethin’ just say so.”

“I guess we didn’t really use these ones.” You said, holding up your wrists for him to unfasten the cuffs there as well. 

“Yeah… still looked cute though.” The blush returned to your cheeks at the thought of being called cute. Guzma got off the bed and motioned for you to follow. “C’mon let’s get dressed and I’ll make us some dinner.”

How long does a hurricane last? You wondered as you watched your captor pick up your clothes and toss them to you. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay here a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out this chapter was much closer to being finished than I remembered. Thank you for all of your kind comments and kudos. It was the kick in the ass I needed to finish this chapter!
> 
> I have a tumblr if anyone's interested. It's not popular or anything, but I'm always on there!  
> I use the same name there as I do here just because it's easier. https://lady-zephyr.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and a show ;D

Guzma showed you the safest way through the broken house. Boxes that had blocked your way before were pushed roughly to the side allowing for easy access to the remaining staircase. As you passed through the halls, the grunts of Team Skull glared at you through cracked and broken doors. They knew you were defenseless; your pokemon team had been stripped from your possession the moment you lost to Guzma, and while they wanted to get revenge for their devastating losses no one dared approach you when you were protected by the boss.

Hushed whispers chased behind you.

_Why is she still here?_

_Didn’t she lose to the boss?_

_You think he wants her to join Team Skull?_

_Nah, I heard he’s just playing with her for a bit. Like a pet or something._

You let out your breath in a huff. Who cares what those grunts thought. You were on a mission to get that youngoos back. It wasn’t your fault you had lost to Guzma and got trapped in this house while the hurricane raged outside. Ok, maybe the outcome of the battle was your fault, but there was nothing you could have done about the weather. You should be thankful Guzma was generous enough to let you stay in the mansion while the storm passed.

Snapping your attention back to the house, a loud bout of laughter erupted from the room before you. Guzma pushed open the door and motioned for you to enter with him. A small group of grunts were digging through an open cupboard, searching for some hidden goodie shoved all the way in the back. The laughter stopped the moment you walked in.

“Scram.” Guzma growled, and the grunts practically trampled each other as they made a dash for the kitchen door. Once they were gone he turned his attention to you. “Look, I ain’t no chef or somethin’, but the least I can do is make you a hot meal. There’s a table over there…why don’t you clean it up a bit while I make the food.”

He pointed to a small table pushed against the far corner of the room. It took you a long time to clear the clutter. Papers littered the tabletop held in place by empty bottles and dirty plates. As you finished clearing everything off, Guzma approached you with two plates overflowing with spaghetti and meatballs. You couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from your mouth. Surely he didn’t expect you to actually eat that much? 

“Shut it. I usually make extra so the grunts can eat too. I’m not really good at only making a little bit.”

Conversation was surprisingly easy after that point. You told him about your family, and about moving to Alola just a few months ago. You were still finding your way in this tropical paradise and noticing how you had struggled with the move, your mom had suggested going on a journey with pokemon friend. Sure you were much older than the kids who were starting out, but she hoped it would help you find a place you belonged. 

As a native Alolan, Guzma told you about all the best things the islands had to offer. He knew which beaches were the quietest, what shops served the best malasadas, even where to find some of the most well hidden pokemon. He didn’t tell you about his past or about Team Skull and you didn’t ask. For a moment everything felt right. Everything felt normal. 

Suddenly the lights flashed once, and then went out entirely. A startled yelp escaped your throat as the room was thrown into inky blackness. 

“Hold on, don’t move. I got this.” Guzma thumped around the kitchen. Doors opened and closed with soft thuds, and you could hear his hand patting around for… something. The search stopped when he returned to the table with a large, lit candle. He set several others off to the side. Part of you was surprised he had actually found something, but you were more grateful to not be in complete darkness any longer.

You tried to thank him, but stopped when your eyes met his. The candle light cast a soft glow on your corner of the room. It accentuated the angles of his face and threw shadows across the choppy cut of his hair. From the way he was staring back, you knew he was noticing the way the fire danced across your eyes. He reached forward to cup your cheek and pulled your face close to his. His warm lips pressed into yours more softly than you had expected. You closed your eyes, imagining for one tender moment that this is where you belonged. 

He pulled away and when you opened your eyes, the look you found was dark and conspiring. Without a word he gathered the candles and took your hand, leading you through the house back to his room. 

\--------------------------------------------

You had been stripped naked and ordered to stand about a foot away from the wall. Your palms were placed flat against the interior and you bent slightly forward, anxiously awaiting what would happen next. The candles Guzma had picked up from the kitchen were placed carefully around the room, bathing the entire space in a soft warm glow. Somewhere behind you the window rattled in its frame. The wind had picked up and rain crashed against the haphazardly blocked windows. Pushing the weather out of your mind you wondered what toy Guzma would pick.

Something cold touched you. Guzma slid the flogger across your back letting you feel the soft leather before putting the tool to use. He touched the tendrils to your legs and pulled it over your thighs and buttocks. You couldn’t help but shudder, waiting for what would happen next.

“Okay, this is gonna hurt a bit. So just remember if ya say the safe word I’ll stop immediately. We clear?”

“Yes, Sir” You said still facing the wall. Pain wasn’t something you had thought about when you agreed to stay here, but you got yourself into this mess and now you were going to have to see it through to the end. Even if that meant being on the receiving end of a leather flogger. _Maybe it won’t be as bad as it sounds._ The thought barely cleared your mind when Guzma addressed you.

“Count out loud,” He commanded, “We’ll only do five for now, but ya need to call out each one clearly.”

“Yes, sir.” You couldn’t help but whimper.

_SLAP!_

The strike landed right across your buttocks. You inhaled sharply, feeling the tingling sensation where it had touched your skin.

“O-one?” You asked tentatively.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Guzma raised the flogger, preparing for the second strike.

“One, sir!” You called out loudly. The second strike landed just above the first and you squeaked the next number, the word threatening to stick in your throat. The third stroke landed in the same spot.

“Three, sir!” The tingling sensation began to turn into a sting. The fourth strike unexpectedly fell across your shoulder blades. Wincing noticeably you called out. Guzma paused, watching you closely before striking you a fifth time in the center of your back.

“Five, sir.” You were breathing heavy, almost panting. Your skin stung from the repeated blows, but it wasn’t the painful bite you had anticipated. In fact, you found this sensation to be quite pleasant. Guzma set the tool on the floor and ran his hands across the stinging marks. The pressure from his hands made the pain flare up and a small moan escaped your lips.

“See, that wasn’t so bad. Looks like next time I should make it ten instead ‘a five.” He slid his hands further down your body and cupped your ass. You gasped at the sudden contact, and found it was arousing you more and more. A hand moved between your legs and pressed against your folds, testing the wetness. You couldn’t help but blush from the intimate contact.

“Damn ya wet. That turned on, huh? I guess I could give you a little more.” Guzma released you and returned to the flogger. He turned away from you, practicing spinning the strands for a moment before turning back to your waiting body. He flicks the handle and the leather spins lightly against your back. You moan loudly in approval as the strands touch and depart. You close your eyes and curl your fingers into fists, enjoying the sensation.

Guzma smiles. The moans and mewling sounds coming from your mouth excited him in a way he hadn’t expected. You were enjoying this as much as he was, a fact he wouldn’t let you forget. He finished his assault and left you standing against the wall for a moment. You heard rustling sounds behind you and when you turned your head, Guzma approached you completely nude. He gripped your shoulders and spun you around to face him.

“On ya knees. And don’t even think about using ya teeth.” His voice was so commanding that you obeyed without a second thought. Gently, you wrapped your fingers around his shaft enjoying the heavy warmth you found. A low growl rumbled in his throat as your hand glided up and down. If he was enjoying your hands this much, you couldn't wait to see how he would react when you used your mouth. As if reading your mind, Guzma reached down and tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding your lips to his cock.

Your hands moved to this thighs feeling his muscles tense as you slipped your lips over the head of his member. Immediately, you took him as deep as you could. His hands gripped tighter, pulling painfully against your roots. Wincing, you bobbed your head sucking greedily at his throbbing cock. You wanted to please him, caressing his shaft as it plunged into your mouth, and lightly flicking the tip as he pulled away. A low growl filtered from above, proof that you were doing a good job. Looking up you noticed his head was thrown back, face contorted into a mask of pleasure.

Guzma glanced down at you and your eyes met. The look on your face was enough to almost make him come. He didn’t remember giving you permission to look that good as you hungrily sucked on his cock. "That's enough." He growled, pulling your head away from his throbbing memeber. "Hands back against the wall." 

He watched as you rose to your feet slowly and returned to the spot on the wall. He watched the way the candle light touched the bare planes of your back. There were light marks from the flogger, but they were already beginning to fade. Your skin was so clear, a stretched canvas just waiting to be painted. A thought crossed his mind and he smiled wickedly. 

You expected more demands and awaited more stinging blows from the flogger. There were sounds of movement behind you, and while you wanted to look and see what Guzma was doing, you wanted even more to be obedient. So you stayed still as the candle light shifted behind you, refusing to move even when you heard Guzma let out a surprised hiss. 

“Guzma, are you all right?” You knew it was a mistake to ask, but whatever happened sounded painful. 

“I don’t remember givin’ ya permission to talk.” He slid beside you, fingers tangling in your hair. With a rough jerk he turned your head to face his. “And what did ya call me?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” You whimpered at the hand pulling your roots. A pang of fear washed over you as you looked into his eyes. Something mischievous lurked there. It was the same look you imagined a wolf would give a sheep. 

As his fingers relaxed and slipped through your locks, he pulled them to the side, making sure every strand was gone from your back. He ran a broad hand down your spine feeling the shiver you couldn’t suppress. So smooth, so pure. He wanted nothing more than to leave his mark all over it.

“Don’t move.” He commanded. He raised the freshly lit candle, wax just beginning to pool at the tip. He knew it was going to hurt, he only hoped you could get enjoyment out of what he was about to do. The candle tilted to the side and the first drop of wax splashed across your skin.

A drop of fire landed on your spine, heat collecting as the drip followed the curve of your back. A sound caught between a shriek and a moan clawed its way from deep within your chest as a second drop landed just above the first, and a third shortly after. Fire raced across your skin, the pain of a new sensation made your knees weak. You gasped for air, fingers curling into fists against the wall. 

Guzma watched the wax create red splotches against your back and felt a pang of guilt when he heard you cry out. He looked down at his own arm, two white drops leaking across his own skin. It hadn’t been that bad when he tested it on himself, maybe your back was more sensitive than he had anticipated. He moved to your side trying to gauge how you were taking this new assault.

“Look, if it’s too much, just say some-“

“No! I- I can take it, Sir.” Your lower lip quivered, and tears dotted the corners of your eyes, but you were determined to continue. You had made a promise to stay until the storm was over. Promised to help him fulfill his desires. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t want this just as much as he did.

Guzma shrugged and stood, candle threatening to leak onto his hand. “Okay, you asked for it.”

He turned the candle to the side and let the molten wax drop onto your spine. Moving his arm slightly, he peppered drops across your skin, the mewling cries coming from your throat spurring him on. Deciding to take it one step further, he positions himself behind you and places his member against your entrance. He pushes in slowly, noticing the way your breath hitches as you adjust to his length. He starts to move, setting a fast pace from the start. 

It’s all too much. Tears spill from your eyes like the drops of wax that splash across your skin. It hurts, feels like your skin is on fire, but oh Arceus if this isn’t the most intense fuck of your life. And then there’s pleasure, soothing heat radiating from inside your core battling against the intense flames across your spine. You ride it out, screaming in pleasure and pain, feeling the spring inside of you wind tighter and tighter. He can feel you trembling below him, knows you can’t last much longer.

“Fuck, yes, that’s right. Come. Come around my cock.” 

Suddenly it bursts free. Your eyes slam shut, face contorted as a wave of pleasure crashes through your body. Oxygen, you need oxygen, and a choked sob sticks in your throat as you inhale. Did you just forget to breathe for a second? Then you’re pulled back to reality, knees wobbling from the force of your orgasm threaten to collapse beneath you. 

Guzma quickly blows out the candle and tosses it aside, wax splashing in an arc across the floor. Both of his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he fucks you. You can hear his voice, still mumbling as he pounds into your aching core. He slams into you powerfully, moaning loudly as he spills his seed deep within you. At some point you realize he’s the only thing keeping you on your feet and as his grip loosens, you slide down onto the floor. 

He follows you down pulling your back against his chest, and strong arms wrap around you, holding on tightly. You sit together, breathing slowly returning to normal. In the post orgasm bliss your thoughts begin to wander. Maybe he’s not a bad guy. Maybe he’s just surrounded by too many teens. Maybe he just needs someone his age he can open up to. Maybe he needs someone like you. It wouldn’t be so bad, you think, to stay here for a while.

Guzma’s face is right next to yours, and he kisses your cheek before getting up. It’s a surprisingly tender action, something you hadn’t expected from the rowdy Team Skull boss. You keep your head down waiting for further instructions and behind you, you can hear the sound of a condom being pulled off of his cock.

_Well at least I don’t have to worry about that._

“Um, why don’t ya come lay on the bed. So we can figure out how to get that wax off of ya.” Right, you couldn’t very well pick the wax off by yourself. You move slowly, the cool wax stretching and cracking as you stretch your muscles. Laying face down on the bed, you turn your head to look at Guzma. He sits beside you, running his hand gently across his work of art.

“You’re, uh, really great and all.” His face flushes a light pink and he turns away from your eyes. “Sorry if that was too much. I got an idea and just went for it. Don’t worry, I’ll, uh, I’ll make sure to get it all off a’ ya’.” You realize he’s tripping over his words. Not sure what to say so he’s saying too much. It makes you giggle.

“It’s ok” you whisper. Your eyes are growing heavy. Pain really takes a lot out of a person. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Guzma…?” Looming slumber clouds your mind. There’s something you should say.

“Yeah?”

“I…” You what? Don’t want to leave? Have feelings for him? You panic, it can’t be that, you haven’t known him long enough. You don’t know who he is. Your whole relationship started with a threat. You can’t stay here. 

You swallow hard, pushing all of your thoughts aside. “I… this… I had fun tonight.”

He almost looks disappointed. Had he been expecting you to say something more thought provoking? More heartfelt? No matter, you were tired and he still had to figure out how to get all of this wax off of your back. You close your eyes, not intending to fall asleep, but drifting off anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where did all of these words come from?! This one actually feels like a real chapter! 
> 
> Whoo boy, I don't know where this chapter came from and I am not complaining.  
> The next chapter is also already started! I only hope my mind lets me write that one as fluidly as it did with this.  
> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> PS. Come scream about boys with me on tumblr!   
> https://lady-zephyr.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to leave, but end up right back where you started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - Non-Con content ahead. 
> 
> Somewhere in the beginning I had decided this fic was going to take a dark turn, and as I keep re-reading it it seems a bit darker than I had originally intended. If rape/non-con is something that bothers you, please don't read this chapter.

Cold metal scraped against your skin and you jolted awake. A knife? He was dragging a knife across your skin. Was he trying to cut you? Were you already bleeding? Thoughts exploded in your muddled brain, attempted to process what was happening in your sleep confused state. You flailed your arm violently in the direction of your attacker, red flags in your mind demanding you fight and get away.

“Ow! Whoa, whoa, whoa, knock it off. Hey I- I said STOP!” Guzma’s strong hand grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the bed. 

“Guzma?” Your eyes were cloudy with sleep. “What are you doing? I thought you were trying to attack me or something.” He released your arm and you left it lie where he had pinned it. “Wait, what _are_ you doing?”

“Get all of that shit offa’ ya back. I wasn’t really sure… It’s the dullest one I could find. I thought about wakin’ ya up… but you just looked so…tired… or somethin’. Your eyes flicked to his other hand, indeed holding a knife. A butter knife. He was just trying to help. You relaxed back onto the bed, a pang of guilt fleeting through your mind.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Wake me up next time, okay?” Next time. _Next time._ Had you really said that? It was getting harder to keep your eyes open. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just sit still an let me get this.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” A deep yawn inflated your lungs, wax cracking as your skin flexed. It was oddly comforting. The cool blade scraped gently across your back followed by warm hands gingerly pulling off the pieces. It was repetitive, soothing, and the motion of it began to lull you back to sleep. Closing your eyes, you let your body relax welcoming the return of sleep.

____________________________________

You awoke some time later. A gentle twilight filtered through the window you assumed it must still be very early. The room was quiet except for the sound of snoring echoing from Guzma’s throat. Sitting up, you stretched your arms high above your head and smiled at the familiar chorus of cracks and pops from your sleepy joints. Rising from the bed you turned to admire your companion’s form. His chest rose and fell with his breaths, but something just wasn’t right. The air was heavy and still, as if time had paused in the room. You stood immobile, trying to place what was out of the ordinary. Realizing what was different, you found your legs carrying you swiftly to the window. 

Through the dirty glass you could see an eerie stillness had invaded the town. Mud and junk lay in piles around abandoned houses, and rivulets of water ran down the sides of the street emptying into storm drains. You could see the tops of trees with their leaves barely holding on after the onslaught of the hurricane. But even more promising was the fact that it was early in the morning and no one was awake yet. It would be so easy to leave the house, get your pokemon, and be on your way back to Acerola and the kids. 

Turning away from the window you walked back to the bed. Guzma looked so comfortable and relaxed. As if he could sleep better with you beside him. You knew you should wake him. Should thank him for his hospitality, for showing you kindness when you had barged into his world, for giving you the most incredibly jaw dropping orgasms of your life… A feeling of guilt sparked in the back of your mind. There was a part of you that wanted desperately to crawl back under the blankets, snake your arm around his waist, and stay a few more days. 

_Don’t forget why you came here in the first place._ The voice in the back of your head was nagging and insistent. This wasn’t a social call. Nothing was supposed to have turned out the way it had. What right did you have to go and develop feelings for the guy who had essentially held you hostage all this time? Shaking your head, you made up your mind. He didn’t feel the same way about you. It was time to go, and it would be better if you were gone before he woke up. 

You collected your clothes and belongings as silently as you could and made for the bedroom door. Stopping briefly, you looked back. Guzma took a deep breath, rolled over, and continued to snore. You decided it was time to leave before you found that you couldn’t. 

You practically ran through the house, unaware you were making any noise at all until you reached the front door. It opened with a deep creaking moan that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The loud groan announced your departure to the rest of the house. Frightened by the sound you slammed the door closed and sprinted toward the Pokemon Center where your beloved team would be. Something felt off about the whole situation, but you pushed that feeling out of your head as you ran down the street.

There was no wind, no sound of any kind around you. No matter which way you looked all you could see was a wall of clouds surrounding the town. It was a cold, eerie scene that would have been frightening if not for how determined you were. 

The doors to the Pokemon Center opened with a jingle. A girl behind the counter eyed you warily before demanding money for your pokemon. You didn’t have time for this. You needed to get out of here now. Reaching into your pocket, you handed her what few bills you had. She smiled at you happily and turned to find your balls. You instructed her not to forget about the youngoos, telling her Guzma had instructed you to pick it up. She paused for a moment, debating whether or not to trust you before deciding she didn’t care enough either way. She handed you the extra ball and you turned to leave the center. 

The sky had gotten darker in the few minutes you were in the store, and a strong gust of wind rushed past you, pelting you with fresh raindrops. Strong hands gripped your arm as you swayed on your feet. Turning, you came face to face with Guzma. He didn’t say anything, just clenched his teeth as he pulled you back toward the house. You both broke into a run as the wind grew stronger around you. Leaves and rocks slashed at your skin and you pushed your way into the foyer just as a wall of water fell from the heavens. Guzma gripped your arm hard and you could feel the gaze of the Skull Grunts as he pulled you back to the confines of his room.

____________________________________

“What the hell were ya thinking?!” Guzma screamed at you. “Don’t ya know about the fuckin’ _Eye of the Storm_? I said I would let ya go when the storm passed. What? Ya don’t fuckin’ trust me? That it?” He threw you unceremoniously on the bed. Sprawled on your back, you scrambled to sit and push yourself against the wall. Something inside of you screamed to make yourself as small of a target as possible. Eyes wide with fear, you tried to address him.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, your voice small and quivering. “I thought it was over. I-I didn’t…”

“What? You didn’t what? Think I would keep my word? Big Bad Guzma, he’s just the leader of a buncha thugs. Why would he keep his fuckin’ word?” His face was red with rage, and you were sure he was screaming so loud the grunts could hear him across the ruined mansion.

“N-no I…”

“Shut up! I don’t wanna hear your excuses.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you!” The loudness of your voice startled you, but you kept going. “These last few days have been so… so…” What had these last few days been? Incredible, exciting, passionate. _Trapped._ You had to keep reminding yourself that. This wasn’t a romantic getaway. You were a slave, nothing but a plaything. An outlet for his sexual desires.

Guzma stared at you, his fingers folding into fists. “What have these last few days been?” 

_Amazing._

“I…I don’t know.” You couldn’t say it. Saying it would make it real. Your face flushed red with embarrassment and you looked down at the bed. Your fingers curled and uncurled in the messy sheets, trying to distract yourself from the angry man before you. 

“I’ll be honest,” Guzma began, “At first I wanted to make ya pay. Pay for that humiliatin’ defeat at Malie Garden. So when you lost, I saw an openin’ and I took it.” He turned away from you and walked to the door, fists uncurling long enough to flip the lock, the click filling you with dread. “But you know what? That look’a defeat on ya face when I won… I felt bad. Ya looked so defeated and weak. Like ya needed a vacation or something. And to top it all off, you showed up right as the fuckin’ hurricane was getting bad. So I figure what the hell. Tell her ya wanna fuck her. See what she says. And to my good damn surprise, ya fuckin’ say _yes_.” 

He moved to the middle of the room, stared blankly at his throne. You knew he was replaying the events of the last few days in his head. You bursting into his room soaking wet and demanding to battle, sucking his cock as he sat on the throne, spaghetti dinner, a shower of wax. It was a time you could never forget if you tried. When he finally spoke it was quiet, like he had forgotten you were in the room with him.

“And then I made a fuckin’ mistake. I let myself get caught up in my feelings.” The sentence hit you like a physical slap. He wasn’t just playing with you, his feelings had been just as real as yours. The ones you were trying to pretend didn’t exist. “I even thought ya were starting to feel the same. I’m such an idiot.” His hands came up to grab at his hair. He pulled at the roots hard enough to make you wince.

You had fucked up. Big time. In a bold move, you got off the bed and approached him. You could fix this, apologize, admit you shared his feelings. Your hands reached up to his, disentangling them from his white locks and weaving your fingers through his. You could do this. As you opened your mouth to apologize, Guzma hit you with an icy stare.

“Did I say you could touch me?” The look in his eyes made your blood run cold. He pulled his hands from your grasp and gripped your shoulders hard. He pushed you backward and you stumbled with him until your knees collided with the edge of the bed. Forcing you to sit he left you with a simple commend. “Don’t fucking move until I say you can.”

The fear had returned. You froze, and even though he didn’t say it, you were sure if you moved there would be dire consequences. Guzma turned his attention to a familiar box on the floor, and you recognized it as the box he kept all of his toys in. Although you wanted badly to be excited about what was to come, you could only feel fear.

“You wanna act like a prisoner? Well fine. I’ll treat ya like a prisoner then.” He turned to you with a pair of handcuffs trailing from his fingers. “Now take off ya clothes before I take them off for you.” You stood from the bed and took a step forward, placing your hand around his wrist.

“Wait, Guzma, let’s talk about this. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-” With a speed you didn’t know he possessed, Guzma lurched forward and grabbed you by the throat. Your eyes went wide with shock. Maybe you should have just taken your clothes off like he had asked. 

Without a word he pushed you back toward the bed. Stumbling over the edge, you fell on your back and he pounced on you immedately. His hands dove under your shirt, pulling it over your body without a second thought. Momentarily stunned, you lay there as he grabbed at your bra, unhooking it and pulling it roughly from your body. As he grabbed at your flesh, you snapped back to reality. Your hands flew to his shirt and you grabbed at his chest, trying to push him off of you. Wordlessly he caught your wrists, easily overpowering you. He trapped one wrist within the cold cuff before wrapping the chain around the metal of the headboard and securing your other wrist within.

Why did you try to run? Why couldn’t you just keep your damn mouth shut? Why did you come here in the first place? 

This was a side of Guzma you hadn’t seen since you first came to the Shady House. He was anger and fury, and in this moment you knew he could really hurt you if he wanted. With your arms handcuffed to the bed you knew you couldn’t get away, but you had to try. You twisted your body, arched your back, screamed at Guzma to get off of you, and to your surprise, he did. 

The victory was short lived as he picked something off the floor and turned back to you. He gripped your chin and forced your mouth open, pushing the ball gag between your teeth. He turned your face toward his, and you recognized the look in his eyes. Anger, but deeper down you could see the betrayal. He ultimately had trusted you, and when you ran all of that trust had shattered.

“I’m only gonna say this once.” His voice was low, a whisper for only you to hear. “Ya spit that out, and I promise you _will_ regret it.” The threat hung heavy in the room. It was time to stop fighting. The sooner you stopped fighting the sooner this would be over. So you did your best to look vulnerable and nodded your head in compliance.

He was back on you in a flash, fingers pinching and pulling at your flesh. He leaned down to bite at your neck and chest adding small bruises around the large existing one. This was not love making. He meant to hurt you and he would do it the only way he knew how. With each bite, pain blossomed and you whimpered around the gag. When his weight shifted, his hands found your pants, unbuttoning the fabric and pulling it from your legs. You didn’t put up a struggle. 

His hands gripped your ankles and pulled your legs apart. Settling between them, he ran his fingers across your thighs. His touch was light, ticklish, and you squirmed slightly beneath him. In response, he dug his fingernails into your skin, pulling harshly across the clear flesh. Bright red lines trailed behind as he clawed at your skin, and you moaned when he leaned in to trace the lines with his tongue. Over and over he marked you, long red lines turning darker and angrier as he worked. His nails trailed over your thighs, across your stomach and chest, and he even scratched at your arms stretched above your head. He alternated between scratching, licking, and biting, until your skin was a crosshatched mess of bruises and welts. 

The pain was confusing. It wasn’t sharp like the flogger, or as intense as the candle wax. It was a dull pain, a slow burn across your skin, heartbeat throbbing within each line. It was a cacophony of pinches and scrapes, soothing licks, and angry tense bites that left you ultimately moaning and writhing beneath your captor. It filled you with heat, a low ache you simultaneously yearned for and dreaded. It wasn’t supposed to be pleasurable. You weren’t supposed to want this. You didn’t want this, but you couldn’t stop the need rising within you. 

Guzma towered over you and admired his work. You were a mewling mass of bruises and welts. Turning your face you looked away, shame painting your cheeks a deep scarlet. He was angry at you. So angry at you for worming your way into his heart and then ripping it out when you left without a word. He stared at your face, at the tears welling up in the corners. His gaze worked its way down, studying the lines crossing your body, landing on the junction of your legs – at the wetness gathered there. You weren’t supposed to enjoy this. How could you get off on someone hurting you on purpose?

With a sneer he removed his clothing, tossing it in a pile on the floor. He repositioned himself between your thighs, stroking his cock and coaxing it into a fully erect state. 

“Look at you. Like a fuckin whore. You want this?” Placing his member at your entrance he pushed in slowly. A tear slid down your cheek and you shook your head. Guzma frowned and put his hand against your cheek, pushing your face away from his. His hand was large and warm and obscured most of your face from his sight. “Fuck you.” The words torn from his throat in a growl.

He pushed in deeper and you try to tell him to stop. Your hands curl into fists and you pull against the handcuffs. You yell into the ball gag and think about how easy it would be to spit it out and fight back. But his words echo in your head, _you will regret it_ , and all of the fight drains from your body. The tears flow freely now and you whimper into the gag. His motions speed up and you can feel yourself growing warmer. You can tell yourself you don’t want this, but it doesn’t stop the coil you can feel winding tighter and tighter in your core. 

You come with a choked sob, body shaking with the force of your release. Guzma feels your walls tighten and he slows, keeping his member locked within you. He pulls his hand away and stays still, staring at your naked form. Your hands are limp against the restraints, eyes red and puffy with tears. His anger flares back up. How dare you get off when he’s trying to make you pay. 

“You fucking like that? Huh? You’re nothin' but a whore, gettin' off on other peoples misery.” Fresh tears fall from your eyes and you plead, words lost to the ball in your mouth. Guzma reaches forward and plucks it from between your teeth. “You wanna say somethin’? Well say it.” It’s barely a whisper and he’s not sure he’s heard it right, but then the force of what you say makes him go soft. Makes all of the anger vanish from his body. 

“Blue.”

Your eyes are clenched shut as the tears spill from between your lashes. You begin to cry in earnest, heavy sobs wracking your body. He pulled away quickly, the weight of what he’d just done crashing upon his shoulders. His eyes go wide as he realizes the damage he’s inflicted to your body. The marks are a deep red, glowing against your skin. Pricks of blood well up in the places where he dug too deep and scratched too hard. Tiny, dark bruises are beginning to blossom between the lines with the worst falling across your collar bones. The damage has been done, the angry marks placed upon your skin with his own hands. The pain so strong you needed to use your safeword.

He had wanted to make you hurt, but looking down at your grief stricken form, he regretted his actions.

Guzma pulled away from you and left the bed. Through the tears, you watched as he dug through the box of toys and you looked away, preparing yourself for more. He approaches again and you flinch, eyes squeezing shut, and you brace yourself for a blow, a bite, more pain. Instead you hear the click of metal and your wrists are released from the confines of the handcuffs. You leave them where they fall, not wanting to risk angering him more. Turning away from you, he moves to sit on the opposite end of the bed. His hands weave through his hair and you hear him mumbling.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Guzma.” 

Slowly, you sit up. On trembling knees, you move behind him. Your arms wrap around his waist and you press your face into his shoulder. The tears have paused and you’re not sure what to do, so you do the only thing that makes sense.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper. If you don’t tell him everything now, you might never get another chance. “This is all my fault. I was having so much fun that I forgot why I was here. And when it was just the two of us having dinner that night… I’ve never felt so comfortable with someone before. It felt real. Like we…” You paused for a moment and took a deep breath, shoving down the tears welling up again. Your voice wavered, but you pushed through. “I didn’t want to leave. But I got scared by what I was feeling. I didn’t know what to do if you didn’t feel the same way. I’m sorry for running. Sorry for fucking everything up. I’m so sorry… and I… I…”

_Say it. For once in your damn life, say what you’re feeling._

“Please forgive me.”

He let your words sink in for a moment, and then he heard you sniffle, hot tears falling against his skin. These were real tears, wrought forth from deep emotional distress. He had done that to you. Hurt you both physically and mentally.

And you thought it was your fault. 

Without a word he rose from the bed and pulled on his clothes. Walking to the wall, he unlocked the door and let it fall open a crack. 

“You’re not the one who should be asking for forgiveness.” He refused to look at you, his head lowered in shame. You saw his shoulders shake and watched a tear slide down his cheek before he walked away and closed the door behind him. 

You sat in the darkening room, rain pummeling the roof above you. Gathering up your courage, you finally looked down at your skin and gasped at the network of scrapes and bruises. You felt ashamed for allowing him to hurt you so badly, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that you deserved this. It was all your fault after all. 

The blankets had been pushed against the wall and as you drew them around you, the rough material scratched at your skin. It did little to warm you, but it was comforting to be wrapped up like a cocoon. 

Outside the wind howled, and you found yourself staring at the door, hoping desperately that Guzma would return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, there it is. I've had pieces of this chapter written for months now, and finally found the words to connect them all together. To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about it. But I'm glad I wrote it and I hope you enjoyed reading it. I know it got dark, but it'll get lighter before this story is over.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know how you feel in the comments.  
> Or you can always join me on [tumblr](https://lady-zephyr.tumblr.com/) .


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new character enters the fray, and Guzma gets a taste of what he deserves.

The sound of breaking glass jolted you awake. Wide eyed, you surveyed the room desperate to know the source of the sound. Finding everything intact, you realize it must have come from somewhere else and leaned back onto the bed. At some point you had fallen asleep. Although it was a dreamless slumber, it must have been fretful as the blankets were askew and crumpled worse than you remembered. Turning your head you took in the sight of the room one more time. A crisp arc of wax long since hardened on the floor caught your attention, pointing toward a single thick candle with a half melted side. You didn’t want to think about that right now, so with a frown you wrenched your attention toward the window and the weather outside.

The glass pieces rattled in their frames, shaken by the furious pounding of the storm. Through the panes you could see trees bending under the mighty force of the wind, and you felt bad for them. They hadn’t asked to be treated this way, beaten by an immovable force and held down against their will. And neither had you. You sniffled in the cold room, the sound small and sad through the thunderous onslaught, but no tears came. The ducts had dried up leaving only the feeling of loneliness and sadness. 

Wrapping yourself in the blanket, you rose from the bed and crept toward the door. You didn’t bother with your clothes; you knew you would just be taking them off again soon anyway. The knob shone brightly against the darkness of the room and as you reached out a shaking hand, you hesitated. Would he be there if you opened the door? Had he been waiting for you to make a move, or maybe he had posted a guard to make sure you stayed put. You twisted the cold metal and watched the wood part from the frame, heart catching for a beat.

Darkness. Nothing but a dark, empty hallway. In a way it was a relief, you could choose to go anywhere you wanted, nothing was stopping you from remaining in this one spot. Maybe later you could explore the house and find where Guzma had been hiding, but for now what you needed was the bathroom. You shuffled the short distance to the door, pulled it open, and felt a relieved breath exit your lungs. The power was still out, but someone had left a candle burning on the sink counter. Never had you been happier to see a tiny flame captured within its glass prison. A soft glow filled the room and you graciously closed and locked the door behind you. Abandoning the blanket, you allowed it to fall around your ankles and stepped in front of the sink mirror.

And gasped - jaw dropping at the sight of your face. For the first time since you arrived at the Shady House, you saw what you had become. Puffy, red eyes stared through the glass, your face framed by wild, unkempt hair. No doubt it had been made worse by Guzma’s recent actions. Your eyes refuse to look lower, unwilling to assess the damage inflicted upon the rest of your body. You knew there were bruises, could feel the scabs pull every time you move your arms or breathe deeply. You stared at your reflection for a long time unable to pull yourself away from the hollow shell before you, fresh tears welling in the corners of your eyes. This couldn’t be you, there was no way you could look this bad. You were brave and courageous, upbeat and bubbly, the complete opposite of the being watching you through the mirror.

_Stop it. Nobody looks good in candle light._

That’s right - the only light in the room was from the glow of a single candle. Breathing deep you turned away from your reflection to survey the room. It was your basic generic bathroom complete with sink, shower, toilet, and a cupboard off to the side. You moved to the cupboard and pulled the door open revealing an assortment of toiletries. Exhaling in relief, you grabbed for some items and began to fix yourself up. 

You didn’t know how long you stayed in the bathroom, but when you looked back in the mirror, your lips curved upward with the tiniest smile. You couldn’t risk taking an actual shower with the storm this bad, but you had managed to wash off the grime from the past few days. With your hair brushed and your face washed you felt much more like yourself. Ready to face the day and kick some ass. Or maybe at least face Guzma. One step at a time. Finishing up in the bathroom, you wrapped yourself back up in the blanket and returned to the bedroom.

It was a bit brighter when you entered, bright enough to find your belongings on the floor at least. You didn’t really want to put your clothes back on. Something about this particular pair of shorts felt too constricting now, the accompanying shirt cut too low for comfort. Guzma’s clothes were in that dresser over there, maybe you could borrow something. Shaking your head, you pushed out the thought. No way, that would just make everything way worse. It would be better for you to just suck it up and wear your own clothes. You closed your eyes as you pulled the shirt over your head, the usually soft material feeling course and scratchy as it rubbed against your wounds. The movement caused a soft ache to stir in your limbs and chest, a groan leaving your body as you buttoned your shorts.

Don’t look. Don’t think about it. It’s probably not that bad so there’s no need to worry about it. 

A rumble echoed in the room and a different ache rolled through your stomach. You walked to the bedroom door before you could stop yourself and pulled it open. You could do this. It was an easy walk to the kitchen. Just walk down the hall, go down the stairs, and the kitchen was right there. But then again, there were a lot of rooms you didn’t’ really get to explore on your way in. Maybe you could find something useful as you made your way to get some breakfast.

 

To say the house was a mess would be like describing the hurricane as a light rain shower. Each room was just as disastrous as the last. Garbage piled in the corners, splintered chairs piled in hazardous, leaning towers, empty bottles once filled with alcohol left where they were dropped. Some rooms were filled with beds, and while they were free from broken furniture, it was clear that the team skull grunts made no effort to give them-selves a clean living space. 

As you moved through the rooms you could feel eyes following you, whispers not quite loud enough to make out. The whole thing was very creepy and made you realize just how vulnerable you were. With no pokemon team to protect you if you got into a fight… well you would just have to be careful not to make anyone that angry. As if on cue, a voice sounded behind you loud and clear.

“Looking for something in particular? Or do you enjoy going through other people’s things?” You turned to address the speaker, a woman about your age. She was tall with dark tan skin highlighting her muscular form, baggy pants hanging from her hips connected to the tight crop top she wore. Her face was affixed in a scowl, bright yellow and pink hair protruding dynamically from her skull. You had seen her around before, the Team Skull admin Plumeria.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, eyes looking down at the floor, “I’m not really even sure what I’m looking for. I’ll just go.” You moved to leave the room, but a firm hand grabbed your shoulder. Plumeria turned you to face her. She looked you up and down, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Could you come with me for a few minutes?” She phrased it like a question, but you could tell by the way she was gripping your shoulder that it was a demand. With a sigh you nodded your head and allowed her to lead you down the hall. You should have just went straight to the kitchen and then back to Guzma’s room. It probably would have been less painful that way.

The room she pulled you into was vastly different than the others. The bed was neatly made, a desk with neatly organized stacks of paper, trashless carpet from wall to wall. It felt warm and inviting and you moved to sit on the bed without waiting for permission. The tan woman closed the door gently and turned to you.

“How bad is it?” She stared directly at your chest.

“It’s not that bad.” You lied, turning away from her glare.

“Bullshit. I know you didn’t come here looking like that. Take off your shirt.” Your heart skipped a beat. 

_”No.”_

You couldn’t show her. It was bad, you knew it was bad, you hadn’t even been able to look at yourself in the mirror, but you just _knew_. The way your shirt rubbed against your collar bones, the painful pinches when your waistband shifted, the dull ache in your core with every step - you knew Guzma had hurt you badly, you just didn’t want to admit it. Not yet. 

Plumeria rolled her eyes in annoyance and approached her organized desk. Pulling out the chair she sank into it heavily, back hunched toward you and forearms resting on her knees.

“Look, I want to help you, but I don’t know how bad this really is. You don’t have to show me. I’m not going to force you to take your clothes off, I’m just trying to see how bad the damage is.”

_Damage._ That’s what you were now, damaged goods.

You stood silently, lower lip beginning to quiver. Don’t cry, keep it together, just take your shirt off and put it back on. Besides, it’s not that bad right? Just keep telling yourself that and maybe you’ll start to believe it. The article came off easily, and you twisted it in your hands. Heat crept into your face and spread across your cheeks. 

Plumeria swore under her breath, eyes following the marks on your body. You turned your face to avoid her gaze and ended up staring straight into the full length mirror hung on the back of her door. Eyes wide with shock stared back and you turned to fully assess the damage.

Your chest and stomach were splattered with bruises, dark blotches of color painting your skin with deep purples and blues. Red ribbons surrounded the bruises, crossing your skin to overflow onto your legs and arms, dark crimson scabs bloomed where the deepest scratches intersected. The darkest spots followed the curve of your collarbone, marks that looked unmistakably like bites. Dropping the shirt, you ran your fingers across your stomach finally looking at your own skin. 

“What…how…?” You whispered under your breath, unable to tear your gaze away from the scene before you.

Plumeria rose from her seat, preparing to pull you into a hug when her door opened slowly.

“Yo, Plumes? I… I think I fucked up…bad.” Guzma was halfway through the door when he stopped, a look of pure terror plastered on his face. He hadn’t expected you to even be awake much less standing in only your bra and and shorts in Plumeria’s room. He inhaled sharply as he noticed the mess of bruises and scratches across your body. He recognized the patterns at once, recognized the spots he had bitten and the lines he had carved with his own nails.

Plumeria turned and quickly closed the gap between her and Guzma, fingers curling at her sides.

“Ya fuckin’ think?”

Without a second thought, she raised her fist and punched Guzma square in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized a few days ago that this fic hit 5000 views and I'm completely, totally, 100% blown away! 
> 
> I figured this would be some weird little pet project where I wrote some selfish smut scenes staring my favorite husbando, and then eventually fizzle out when I moved onto something new, but I've had so much positive feedback that it's turned into so much more. 
> 
> Thank you to every single person who read, commented, and messaged me directly. There's still more story on the way and I'll try very hard not to leave you waiting for too long!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery and lots of crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait, but here it is the penultimate chapter!
> 
> Honestly I feel it's a little boring in the middle, and maybe that's why it took so long, but it needed to be written so here it is.

Guzma fell backward with the force of Plumeria’s punch, backside meeting the carpet with a painful thud. His hands flew to his face to cup his nose and a shocked gasp escaped from his lips. He looked confused as he rolled onto his side, pushing himself onto one elbow. The hand on his nose moved away and he stared at it a second, checking for blood, before looking up at the angry woman towering over him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He protested. “Ya’ could’a broken my nose.”

“No, what the fuck is wrong with _you_ , Guzma.” She was fuming. The fists clenched tightly at her sides twitched as she held herself back. “Look at her. What the fuck did you do?!”

A soft murmur began to grow throughout the house, the altercation not going unnoticed by the other occupants of the mansion. Doors cracked open just enough for black and white bandana covered faces to peek through. The masked individuals focused on Guzma and Plumeria, each wanting to get closer, but none brave enough to take the first step.

“Back to your rooms. NOW.” Plumeria barked. Doors slammed around the house as the grunts shut themselves away. As much as they may have wanted to watch what was about to happen, no one was dumb enough to disobey a direct order from the admin of Team Skull.

Turning back, Plumeria called you over. “Come here a minute.” You lifted your arms to put your shirt back on, but a Plumeria’s strong voice stopped you. “Leave it off. He needs to see this.” 

With your head lowered in shame you approached the door way, stopping before you actually exited the room. Even though Plumeria had told the grunts to stay in their rooms, you didn’t want to risk exposing yourself in case someone dared to disobey. You stared at the floor, too embarrassed to look at Guzma directly.

“Look at her,” Plumeria said, “Did you even once think you might have been hurting her?” Fresh tears slid down your cheeks and your chest trembled as you held back a sob. You could feel Guzma’s gaze travel across your body, following every line and pausing at every bruise. 

“Look, Plumes-“ Guzma began before being cut off abruptly.

“Shut up. She doesn’t need your excuses.” Plumeria leaned down and grabbed the collar of Guzma’s jacket, pulling his face close to hers. “Get the fuck out of here. And if I see you come near her again we’re gonna have a problem.”

She pushed him away, feeling a small twinge of sadness as Guzma fell back to the floor. Plumeria didn’t like getting physical with Guzma, but when he was in one of his moods, violence was the only language he understood. The way she saw it, he was getting off easy. 

Placing an arm around your shoulders, Plumeria lead you back into her bedroom and shut the door. This time she didn’t stop you when you pulled the shirt over your head. She just motioned for you to have a seat on the bed and she sat beside you when you finally let out the sobs you had been holding back.

Placing your hands over your face, you finally gave in and let yourself cry – loud, ugly sounds you silently hoped Guzma was still around to hear. You cursed yourself for letting it get this far.

“This is all my fault,” you whispered between sobs, “If I would have just stayed put, none of this would have happened.” 

“This isn’t your fault.” Plumeria said. “I don’t care what happened between you and the boss. He had no right to hurt you like this.” She looked toward the door, as if waiting for Guzma to come bursting through. “I have half a mind to go back out there and give him a taste of his own medicine.”

Your stomach rumbled loudly and you chuckled nervously. “Oh, right, I was on my way to the kitchen when you found me. I kind of haven’t had anything to eat today.”

Plumeria sighed and shook her head. “Ok. Stay here. I’m gonna go get something from the kitchen. When I come back we’re going to talk about this some more.” 

She got up quickly and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. It was then that you decided you would tell Plumeria everything. Your reason for coming here, why you stayed, when you tried to leave … everything. Maybe if you explained, she could help you figure out what you were supposed to do now.

It was less than ten minutes from when the colorful haired woman left the room to when she returned with a bag full of cereal bars and bottles of water. 

“Sorry. The power is still out and I didn’t really want to leave you alone for too long right now.” Plumeria said. She handed you the bag, and you picked through the contents taking what you wanted before passing it back to her. “So… you wanna talk about it?”

“Actually, I do.” You said. Opening a bottle of water, you took a drink, inhaled a deep breath, and started from the beginning. Before you knew it, an hour had passed and you were explaining the past day to your new ally. You didn’t tell her everything; after all she didn’t need to know some of the more intimate details, but as you finished your story Plumeria was once again fuming.

“Just who the hell does the Boss think he is?” Plumeria rose from her desk chair and paced around the room. She stopped in front of the door and crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. “I would normally say he’s not really a bad guy, but there’s no way I can say that after hearing what you just went through.”

You turned your attention to the window beside the bed. Rain pelted the glass forcefully and through the onslaught you could see the palm trees being pushed around by the wind. If the second half of the storm lasted as long as the first half you were trapped for at least another day and a half in the Shady house. You didn’t know what to do. At this point, you desperately wanted to go home, but with the hurricane still in full blast it would be impossible. 

Reaching back, you pulled a soft skitty poke-doll into your lap. Its face looked so happy with its wide grin and closed upturned eyes. You pull it close and rest your chin between its big fluffy ears, hoping Plumeria wouldn’t mind the action. Taking a deep breath, you could feel the tears welling up once again. You were so tired of crying, and tired of being stuck in this house full of people who couldn’t care less about your existence. Tears slid down your cheeks again and you tried your best to keep from sniffling too loudly. 

“Mr. Skitt doesn’t like tears, you know.”

“What?” You ask, “Who’s Mr. Skitt?” As you turn your attention back to Plumeria, she moves to her desk and starts digging through the drawers.

“That doll you’re holding. He and Madame Lapras don’t like tears.” She pulls out papers, notebooks, and random odds and ends before finally finding what she’s looking for. She turns back and addresses you sheepishly. “Look, since the power’s out I don’t have much we can do. But I have a deck of cards, or some interesting books if you would prefer that instead…” Plumeria trails off, unsure of what else to say. She looks uncertain, as if she’s not used to being so kind. You sniffle before realizing what she’s trying to do.

“Oh, cards are fine I guess. I don’t really know any games though.” You give a nervous chuckle and sniffle loudly. Plumeria hands you a tissue box from somewhere on her now disorganized desk. She pulls the chair beside the bed and starts shuffling the cards.

“Ok, let’s start with something easy then. How about Go Fish?” She explains the rules and deals the cards. It’s an easy game and after a few minutes of playing you find yourself breathing easier, not thinking about anything but the cards in your hand. Before you know it, the game is over and she’s teaching you the rules to another, more complicated game. An hour passes, then another, and another. You break for a dinner that consists of more cereal bars and water. When it grows too dark to see the cards, Plumeria pushes aside the mess on her desk and lights a candle, the soft glow providing you some comfort. 

Things have been silent for a while. It was too dark to play more games, but still too early to call it a night. Plumeria sits at her desk silently reading a book while you watch the raindrops splatter against the window. She turns a page and the paper rustles unusually loudly, but it gives you an idea.

“Hey, do you have a notebook I can borrow? And a pen?” 

Plumeria sets down her book and digs through the pile on her desk. She pauses for a moment before handing you a black notebook, the front cover decorated with salazzle stickers; and the pen she hands you has a tiny plastic golbat attached to the top.

“There’s more pens in the top drawer if you need them. Different colors and stuff too.” Her face flushes red with embarrassment, and you realize she probably never lets anyone see this side of her. She has to put up a strong front to keep the house in order - seem more mature in order to protect the younger members. Even though she hasn’t said anything, you’re grateful that she welcomed you into her room and took the time to help you.

Smiling wide, you say thanks and begin to write. The rest of the night is spent organizing your thoughts and putting the feelings into words. The lines are disorganized, phrases jotted down as they form in your mind, and the more you write the better you feel. The rest of the evening is spent in silence punctuated by the turn of pages and the scribble of a pen.

\----------------------------------------

You wake up alone with your hand loosely grasping the golbat pen. Plumeria had insisted you take the bed, but as you looked around she was nowhere to be found. Stepping out of bed, you stretch and wander over to the door, flipping the light switch to check if the power had returned. With no sign of electricity, you reach for the door and open it a few inches. The hallway is empty – no grunts, no Plumeria, no Guzma. A relieved sigh escapes your lips, and you close the door shutting yourself back into Plumeria’s room.

“Just one more day,” You say aloud, “I should be able to go home tomorrow afternoon.” You take your place back on top of Plumeria’s bed and reach for the notebook. Your thoughts are all there, now it’s time to organize them. You’re halfway through the first draft when the door swings open. 

Plumeria strides into the room wearing a smug smile. She’s carrying a large serving bowl and the smell washes over you before you can see the contents. 

“One of the grunts managed to reignite the pilot light on the stove. Hope you like pancakes.” 

You smile brightly. Finally, your first real meal in almost two days.

“I brought you something else, too.” She sets the plate of pancakes down on her desk and slides the bag from her shoulder. You recognize it instantly. It’s your bag, and as you reach for it your heart beats excitedly. You reach in quickly, grabbing your pokeballs and releasing your team into the room. 

It’s a tearful reunion, and after checking each of your team you pass the pancakes around. Plumeria releases her own pokemon and you watch as the two groups mingle and play. When your pokemon are finished eating and playing you give each one a hug before returning them to their pokeballs. 

With your team back safely at your side, you turned back to the notebook Plumeria had lent you and continued to draft your letter. It took you the rest of the day, but as it was getting to dark to see, even by candlelight, you folded the page and addressed the other woman in the room.

“I need to ask a favor.”

“Let me guess, you want me to give that to Guzma.” 

A pink blush creeped across your face as you nodded at Plumeria. “Please… please don’t read it.” You turned your head away, arm outstretched clutching the letter. Plumeria took the paper gently and rose from her seat.

“I won’t.” She walked to the door, before turning and looking back. “Anything you want me to tell him?”

“No,” You shook your head, “Just give him that, please.”

“You got it.” 

As the door closed with a click, you lost your composure. Hands that had held the letter out to Plumeria only moments before began to tremble and your heartbeat pulsed loudly in your ears. Noticing your breathing picking up, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. You needed to calm down before you had a full on panic attack.

Not knowing what else to do, you wrap yourself up in Plumeria’s blankets and stare out the window. It’s too dark to see anything, but the rain still assaults the glass powerfully. In the quiet you can hear footsteps approaching the door. You throw yourself down quickly and pretend to be asleep. You don’t want to talk to anyone right now, even Plumeria.

“Hey, I gave your letter to-“ She stops when she sees the blanket cocoon. Whatever she has to say can wait for tomorrow. Sitting back at her desk, she retrieves up her book and picks up right where she left off. You feel bad for blowing her off - after all, she’s shown you nothing but compassion, but right now you really don’t want to talk. 

It’s been one hell of a week and you decide you’re ready for it to be over. 

You pull the blankets closer and stare at the candle light dancing on the wall. Plumeria turns the pages of her book with a continuous rhythm, and you think it sounds almost like the ticking of a clock. Between the sound of the wind and Plumeria’s pages you find yourself being lulled into a deep slumber.

\------------------------------

_This is it._ You think. _It’s time to go home._

The rain is still falling, and the wind has died down into a few lingering gusts holding onto the tail of the storm. You looked away from the window and back to the growing mound of clothes on Plumeria’s floor. A quick look at yourself in the mirror that morning had confirmed your worst fears – the bruises from Guzma weren’t going anywhere fast. 

Most of the scratches hadn’t actually broken the skin so the red lines crossing your chest and arms had disappeared, but the bruises were a different story. While the marks on your arms were already beginning to fade to yellow, your chest was still decorated with splotches of black and blue. It would be impossible to hide from everyone for another week, and you really didn’t want to have to explain why you were covered in bruises to Acerola and the kids. 

Plumeria had insisted she had a t-shirt that would fit you, but as she dug deeper and deeper into her closet you began to have your doubts. 

“Aha!” She yelled. “There you go. One plain black t-shirt guaranteed to cover pretty much everything. I knew it was in there.” 

You pulled the shirt over your head and looked at yourself in the mirror. It couldn’t hide the mark on your neck, but you could always lie and say you got hit by something in the storm. No one would question you about the hurricane. You smiled wide and turned back to Plumeria.

“Thank you so much. For everything. I don’t think I could have gotten through these last two days without you.” 

“It’s still raining. Are you sure you don’t want to wait a little longer?”

“No offense, but I really want to go home and sleep in my own bed for a while.” You shrug your shoulders and sling your bag over your arm, making your way to the door. 

The house is quiet as you follow Plumeria to the entrance hall, and you wonder if she warned the grunts not to leave their rooms today. The bright haired girl opens the front door to the mansion and hands you an umbrella. She pulls you into a hug before pulling away quickly.

“Look…” She pauses, Her right arm crossing over her chest to scratch nervously at her left arm. You can tell whatever she wants to say is difficult, “We might cross paths again you know… as enemies. The boss too…” She trails off searching for her next words.

“I understand.” You smile and reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I won’t go easy on you just because you helped me.” 

“Take care.” Plumeria whispers. You nod and head through the door.

The umbrella offers little protection in the pouring rain, but you decide it’s better than nothing and continue onward. You’re relieved to find that the blockades have been mostly washed away or pushed to the side making your exit that much easier. You’re almost to the town limits when you hear footsteps heading toward you quickly. You turn in time to see Guzma come to a stop several feet away.

You stare at him, waiting for him to say something – anything.

His mouth opens and closes making him look like a floundering magikarp. The tension grows between you, but this time it’s Guzma who can’t get the words out. He hangs his head in defeat and a wave of sadness and relief washes over you. In a way you’re glad he remains silent. That way there’s no reason to approach him.

His shoulders droop with the rain and you follow the line of his arms down to his hands, where he’s clutching a familiar paper. It’s the letter you wrote to him. He sinks to his knees and brings his hands up to his face. You know he’s crying but the tears are washed away by the rain as quickly as they can fall. 

Silently, you turn and continue on your way to the entrance of the town. The wind picks up in one final gust, making you pause and grip the umbrella tightly with both hands. You hear a sound then. It’s quiet and for a moment you’re not sure if it’s the wind or something else, but as you reach the edge of town you hear it again, louder and unmistakably sad. You pretend you didn’t hear it and break into a run, but the sound pulls at your heart.

_”I’m so sorry.”_


End file.
